


❛ hold on to what we are ❜

by thehyades



Series: perhaps, someday [1]
Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, but there are Feelings, lets give myrtle some appreciation yeah?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23084398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehyades/pseuds/thehyades
Summary: ❛❛ It sends a shot of bravery through him and he feels strong enough to survive this battle, to walk away from it and one day, wake up in a warm, sun-dappled bed in Scho’s arms. ❜❜Or Blake has three weaknesses; Myrtle, Scho and cherry pies.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Series: perhaps, someday [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684702
Comments: 8
Kudos: 190





	❛ hold on to what we are ❜

**Author's Note:**

> this is a bit of a smutty one, so, fair warning lool? (title is from 'your bones' by of monsters and men)

_One: Myrtle, his fluffy St. Bernard._

It was actually Tom's grandfather who brought Myrtle into their lives. Tom was six and Joe was thirteen. They had been playing cops and robbers in the orchard (Joe, the cop and Tom, the robber) when Grandad had come bounding over with the biggest smile on his face. To Tom’s surprise, a fluffy St. Bernard came following behind Grandad. Tom and Joe ran to the dog and hugged it together.

Myrtle has been at their side ever since. Tom thinks about Myrtle every day during the war, he asks about Myrtle when he writes home and eagerly reads any news about her. When he finds out Myrtle is having puppies Tom’s mood is lifted for a good week, even through that bleak mission to warn the Second Devons of the Germans’ planned attack, even through the Battle of Arras two days later that will plague him for years to come. His prize for surviving is his mother sending him a lovely picture of Myrtle in the cherry orchard, excited and covered in blossoms. He clutches the picture close to him at night. 

When the war ends and somehow, Tom, Schofield and his older brother survive, Tom bursts into tears when he sees Myrtle. His knee buckles and he lets Myrtle push him and Joe into the cool grass. Scho watches the reunion with a soft smile. 

_Two: Scho’s voice during sex._

Here’s the thing. Privacy in the trenches is rare, downright impossible actually. The only chance for intimacy, _proper_ intimacy is during leave and leave is also rare and often short-lived. So, it takes a while for Tom to really hear what Scho sounds like during sex. 

The first time he does they are on leave together in some pretty French town. After taking long walks in the forest, napping on the soft grass and swimming in the river, they don't return to the small hotel until the sky is dark and the stars are out. It's cheaper to share a room and it's a good excuse to stay together.

The door is barely shut when Tom grabs Scho by the collars of his shirt and slams him against the wall. He swallows Scho’s beginning question with a hot, hungry kiss. Sometimes, it feels like no matter how much time he spends with Scho, it will never be enough. Today, they have the extraordinary chance to go all the way and take as long as they want. Tom locks the door and Scho pushes him back onto the bed as they kiss and tug each other’s clothes off. 

Moonlight floods in from the round window above the bed, lighting everything in silver and blue. When he’s pinned Tom to the mattress with both hands wrapped around his wrists and he’s thrusting into Tom with such exquisite swiftness it takes all of his concentration not to fall apart. He licks a stripe up Tom’s neck and whispers softly in his ear. Tom quivers under his grip. 

“Tommy, I think—” Tom almost comes then and there at the sound of Scho’s wrecked voice, “you feel so— _ah,_ Tom, I'm..I don't think I'm going to—”

He kisses Scho to stop him from talking before his voice sends Tom over the edge. It’s fucking sinful. Scho, Tom realises months later, must have been a siren in his past life. It’s the only explanation for having such a spellbinding voice. 

When the war ends and they finally return home, Tom and Schofield live together in an apartment in London. Scho takes Joe’s old room when Joe marries Marion, Scho's older sister, and moves into her home with the twins. In this quaint little apartment they call their own they have privacy for such intimacy now, privacy and the comfort to do it as often as they want. 

It’s a late Saturday evening in mid-summer. Pink and purple light from the sunset drowns the room. They couldn’t make it to the bed so Tom rides Scho on the sofa. Tom has his arms around Scho’s neck and Scho rests his hands on Tom’s hips and guides Tom’s movement. Tom feels alight with arousal. He’s hot all over, from the sweltering summer heat and intense yet drowsy lovemaking with Scho. His injured knee aches in protest but the pleasure is too good to stop. Tom can handle Scho leaving a trail of hickeys and bite marks along his shoulders, hell, he can even handle the blazing pleasure when Scho wraps a hand around him. However. 

What Tom cannot handle is Scho talking to him in that wrecked voice and meeting his every thrust with maddening ease. 

“Tommy,” He says. Tom groans in his ear and he squeezes his eyes shut to stop the room from spinning. "Tommy, is your leg okay?"

Scho worries about him when he's on top, he thinks Tom puts too much strain on his knee. He's right, of course, but what Tom will never tell him is that the pain is worth it. He likes being on top, he likes riding Scho, he likes the angle Scho hits in this position because it always sends Tom to the edge of orgasm and back. He likes the feel of Scho's large, warm hands on his hips and he especially likes watching every flicker of pleasure pass across Scho's handsome face. His wavy brown hair always sticks to his forehead and Tom likes sweeping it back every time Scho glances down. He likes it when Scho glances up, hair falling over his eyes, his gaze deep and dark, flushed cheeks and cherry-red lips parted. He likes everything he does with Scho. He loves him.

"Tommy," Scho says his name again and it sounds so sinfully good Tom wonders if he's finally gone mad. "Tommy, I need you to tell me if your leg hurts—"

“ _Will_ , you're gonna...” Tom pants against Scho’s cheek. He's not going to last. He bites down on his lip. Why did he think he could last with Scho whispering in his ear? “yes, I'm fine, can you just be—"

Scho huffs, "tell me when it does bother you—"

"Oh, _oh,_ fuck, Will," Tom gasps. Yep. He's going over the edge. "If—if you keep talking, you’ll make me—”

Scho slides his fingers up into his hair, gripping the curly locks hard, his voice is rough and nothing short of mania-inducing when he says, “I know, Tommy, let go.”

He does. Waves of searing pleasure crash over him as he comes with Scho’s name in his mouth. Tom kisses Scho because if he doesn’t all of London will hear him fall apart in Scho's lap. Tom’s mind is clouded with lust and the kiss is needy and heady. Lava spills into his veins as he grinds down in Scho's lap, making Scho follow him moments after with another bite to his shoulder as he shivers beneath him. Tom collapses against him. They stay like that for a while, panting, breathing each other in and trying to regain their composure.

Scho glides his hands up and down Tom’s undoubtedly sweaty back.

“Round two?” Tom breathes in his ear.

Scho laughs but Tom can already feel him twitching with interest.

"If you want," Scho says in that intoxicating sex-laden voice.

“I do, I always want you,” Tom says, pushing away to look at Scho who has tilted his head back on the sofa. He looks flustered and happy and gorgeous and Tom wonders how he got so lucky. “But you can’t talk this time, deal?”

“I don’t get why my voice affects you so—”

Tom raises an eyebrow.

Scho rolls his eyes, “okay, deal.”

Tom grins and pulls him in for a long, lovely kiss.

_Three: His mother’s delicious cherry pies._

His mother always made the cherry pies on Sundays after church. They would return from mass in time to find the pie had cooled down enough to eat. Mum made them all sit around the dinner table, (it would be the circular table on the patio overlooking the orchard in the summer) and she would serve them all a lovely slice of pie with a scoop of homemade ice cream. It was vanilla and it always melted sweetly in his mouth with the warm pie slice. 

He misses his mother’s heavenly pies more than anything during the war. They are the very essence of home for him and he’s so far away from home. Hundreds of miles away in some French fields, crouching down in the front line with his rifle between his legs as he waits for the fateful whistle to send them over the trenches and into the arms of death. 

The only thing that grounds him, keeps him from going mad with fear is seeing Scho kneeling opposite him. Scho holds his rifle in one hand next to him and he rests the other on the rocky ground to steady himself. Shells fall around them, shaking the earth and tearing it apart. Debris rains down. It feels like the end of the world has finally arrived. Tom covers his head to avoid it hitting him.

Scho’s dark blue eyes meet his, his steady gaze holds Tom in place. 

“Hold fire!” The thin platoon commander shouts over the deafening bombs, “five seconds!”

_I love you_ , Scho mouths to him. 

It sends a shot of bravery through him and he feels strong enough to survive this battle, to walk away from it and one day, wake up in a warm, sun-dappled bed in Scho’s arms. He can see himself indulging in as many cherry pies he can fit in his gob when he’s home.

_I love you too,_ he mouths back and hopes Scho makes it out through the dust clouds. 

He must do because a faint smile pulls at his lips. 

The whistle blows. Tom turns, grips his rifle and charges over the trenches.


End file.
